Scrambled Babies (5 page)

Madison
came over and gave her mother a kiss.  “See you later, Mommy.”  She walked back next to Fred.

“So when is Rosa coming out to take care of the kids?” Fred asked as they were leaving.

“I told her to visit her mother and be here next week.  I figured we’d have enough help here at the hotel.”

“Good.  We should have this thing settled soon.  The fewer people who know about it the better.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Fred and Madison disappeared out the door.

Disappointment, frustration, anger, worry, guilt, fear—was there any negative emotion that wasn’t romping freely through Paeton’s entire being?  Would there be any relief in the near future?

#

The next thing Paeton knew, Fred was knocking on her suite door.  She must have finally fallen asleep from emotional exhaustion, the TV droning in the background.  She pitched groggily out of the chair to let him in.  Madison was with him.  The boy baby was still sleeping.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Hello, honey.  Did you have a good time?”

Madison
picked up her video game.  “Oh, yes!  Now I’m going to my room and rest.”

“Okay, honey.”

Fred gave Paeton a long hug.  “I’m here to stay now, sweetheart.  We’ve got to get this thing figured out.  Did you hear anything on TV?”

“No.  I slept.  I feel as if I’ve been drugged.  I guess I fell asleep after you left, and you just now woke me up.  Besides, you know I would have called.”  Her voice emerged thin and raspy.

“Of course, of course.  By the way, your nap did you some good.  You’re looking better.”

“Thanks, Fred.  Oh, it’s almost five o’clock.  Is that news time out here?” Paeton asked.

“Well, breaking news is all the time everywhere.  It’s eight o’clock on the East Coast.  Hey, the baseball game is on.  I’d like to watch a little of that for a—”

“Baseball game?  My baby is god knows where and you want to watch baseball?  Isn’t there something we can do besides wait for a news bulletin?”

Fred picked up the remote.  “Yes, I suppose we could call the police and create our own news bulletin.”

Paeton felt the barb of Fred’s remark.  “That’s what I need right now, Fred, sarcasm.”

“Sorry.”  Fred looked sheepish.  “I guess it’s getting to me too.”  He played with the remote until he found the baseball game.  “Just to get the score.  We need to do something in the real world to keep our sanity.  Okay?”

Paeton plopped in the chair again.  “I guess you’re right.  If I call now, people really
are
going to think I’m a nutcase—waiting this long to report the switch. Damn it,” she whispered hoarsely. “I would have bet my life he would’ve called somebody by now!” She jumped out of the chair and tramped to the window.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” she exploded, keeping her voice low.

As she stood by the window, the baseball game droned annoyingly in the background.  “There’s the pitch—and the swing.  Girardi hits a long flyball.  Dennis is going back to the warning track—waaa!—it’s a homerun.  A homerun for Girardi!” 

What was that?  Was Paeton crazy, or did she hear a baby cry from the announcer’s booth?

“What a blast—waaa!  That ball almost hit the scoreboard in—waaa!—deep center field.”  It was a baby’s cry. 
What in the world?

“What a spectacular hit, folks!  Two out, nobody on, bottom of the fifth.  Mullens due up for the Bosox.  And yes, baseball fans, you did hear a baby cry.  But not to worry.  Uh, that’s only my color man—low, ball one, just missed the inside corner—Steve Kaselman’s, affectionately known to many of you as America’s Mr. Mom, uh, his baby.  Strike on the outside corner.  Herrera caught him looking at a slider.” 

The camera came up on a very embarrassed sportscaster.  He waved weakly to the audience, the Zoo Kingdom babyseat, containing a crying child, on his lap.

“My god, that’s him!” Paeton cried out.   “And that’s Kelsey!  That’s my baby!  And that’s too-tight-vest!”  She knelt down captivated by the TV screen, wagging her finger wildly at the talking head.  She was shaking violently.

“What guy?  Kelsey?  What are you talking about?”  Fred stood beside the kneeling Paeton.

Paeton did not look up.  She kept her finger aimed at the TV.  “Too-tight-vest!  The guy who has Kelsey!  God, he has unbelievable eyes!”  She continued shaking.  “Who is he, Fred?  Who is he?”

Fred sat down in a chair behind Paeton.  “Son of a bitch, that’s Steve Kaselman!  He’s doing color for the Boston Red Sox.  That’s the guy?  That’s too-tight-vest?”

“Yes!  And that’s Kelsey!”  Tears brimmed in her eyes.  She whispered softly.  “Oh, thank god, I’ve found her!  Thank god!”
 And I was right—he is a jock!

Fred got up and ran around the room laughing crazily.  “That’s great!  That’s spectacular!  That’s fabulous!  The guy who has your baby is Steve Kaselman!  What a break!  He wants to keep it quiet too!” 

Fred suddenly sobered.  He turned to Paeton.  “What do you mean ‘he has unbelievable eyes?’” I mean, you bumped into him and all, but how would you know that?”

Paeton jumped up.  “Okay!  So that’s why he didn’t report it either.  He’s a national figure like me.  We
can
resolve this quietly.”  She turned and smiled at Fred, brushing her eyes.  When she had told him the airport story, she had left out the delicious part.  “Oh, Fred, some things you have to notice about a man.”  She cocked her head in thought, then put her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute.  His poor wife!  What a selfish, egotistical, perverted—”

Fred cut her off.  “Steve Kaselman doesn’t have a wife.”

“He doesn’t have a wife?”  What was it that stirred inside Paeton? 

Neither Paeton nor Fred could sit down.  Both moved around aimlessly, wonderfully relieved.  Laughing, howling, crying.  The baseball game resounding in the room.  Paeton had never loved listening to a baseball game so much. 

Paeton turned abruptly to Fred.  “He doesn’t have a wife?   Who’s taking care of my baby?”

“Uh, from what I hear, he is.  He keeps his kid with him at all times.  Or at least he makes the appearance of taking complete care of the baby.  He’s made a big deal of taking full custody of his and his former girlfriend’s baby and being Mr. Mom.  Officially, no- nanny-of-any-kind deal.  But rumor has it he has a full-time nanny.” 

“Sorry, friends.  You’ll have to do your own color for a moment.  Some things really can’t wait.”  Steve Kaselman smiled weakly and walked off-camera swinging the travelseat meekly at his side.

Madison
opened her bedroom door and peeked out.  “What’s the matter, Mommy?”

“Nothing’s the matter.  We found Kelsey!  Isn’t that wonderful!”

“Goody!”  Madison ran into her mother’s arms.  Paeton lifted her and twirled her around.  “Where is she?  Is she here?”

“No, sweetheart.  She’s with a sportscaster named Steve Kaselman.”  She set Madison down.

“So now you won’t have to be sad anymore?”

Paeton hugged her.  “Right, honey.”

“I love you, Mommy.”  Madison skipped into her room.

“My god, Fred!  Kelsey!  She is safe and sound.  Thank god!”  Instinctive tears welled up.  She was both relieved and frustrated.  She could see the baby was being well taken care of.  But Kelsey was in Boston, and she was in L.A.!

“Yes, thank god we know who he is!”  His expression turning thoughtful, Fred exhaled slowly.  “Thank heaven you didn’t call the police!  Can you imagine where we’d be if the media had gotten wind of it? I mean, these kids are virtually twins. The public would never believe they were covered up. They would believe that you guys think you are such big shots, you don’t even pay attention to your own kids. Christ, this is absolutely staggering!  This is absolutely—” he searched for a word, “not happening!”

“So you’re glad I didn’t panic and report it?”

“Glad?  I’m overjoyed!  It’s great news that he’s a national celebrity too and can’t afford any scandal either.”

“I know.  I didn’t know what you would say about how it might affect my career.  Waiting to find out if it would hit the airwaves was the height of anxiety.  Now I guess that won’t happen.”  She put her hands on both sides of her head and shook it slowly.  “But if it ever does, I guess we’re both going to look like a couple of fools!”

Fred gave a nervous laugh.  “I’ll say!”

Paeton threw herself prostrate on the floor in front of the TV.  She stretched her hands to the ceiling.  “Thank god, thank god!  Oh, none of this matters.  All that matters is that Kelsey is safe, and we know who too-tight-vest is.”

Fred looked down at her somberly.  “And we make the baby-switch before the media hounds make you two into a national joke!” 

Paeton plunked back in the chair.  “How do we do that?”

“Call his office, I guess.  We have to talk to him personally though.  We can’t talk to anyone but him about it.  There’s no loyalty anymore.  His so-called loyal administrative assistant will sell him out in a heartbeat for a quick thousand dollars from any tabloid or TV talk show.  We have to get to him personally.  Since he hasn’t heard it on the news either, he probably figures that someone is hiding it precisely the way he is.  But he has no idea why.”  Fred frowned.  “Oh, oh, we have a big problem.”

“You mean another one?”

“Right.  We can’t call him at the ball game.  And it’s eight o’clock in New York where his network office is.  We’ll get his voice mail.  We can’t risk putting anything this volatile on a message service.”

Paeton resumed pacing.  “We don’t have a choice.  We have to contact him. My phone is still dead. We’ll leave your L.A. cell phone number so there’s no way we’ll miss his call.  And we’ll leave some kind of coded message that he can’t possibly misunderstand.”

Fred scratched his graying head.  “Well, okay, I guess so.  You’re right.  There’s no other choice.”

Paeton looked at Fred.  “How do we find his number?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.  Probably has an office phone number listed.”

Fred fiddled with his phone, clicked it and handed it to Paeton. She heard it ringing.

“Steve Kaselman’s office, Sophia speaking.” 

Paeton covered the mouthpiece.  “He’s got a night secretary.”

Fred gave a thumbs-up.

“Sophia, I would like to leave an urgent message for Mr. Kaselman.”

“Yes, ma’am.  And what is the urgent message?”  Paeton realized that in her haste to contact Kaselman, she hadn’t prepared a message, coded or otherwise.  “Say, uh, say that you have some interesting news for him.”

“Excuse me?  That’s your urgent message?”  Sophia’s disgust was evident.  “Is there anything else you want to add?”

Paeton couldn’t think.

“I have a call coming in, ma’am.  I’ll be right back.  Can you hold?”

Paeton could feel a drop of perspiration running down the inside of her arm.  “Uh, yes, fine, take your call and come back, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Paeton held her hand over the phone.  “What’s my urgent message?  So far I really sound stupid.”

Fred’s forehead was knotted in a frown.  “What does he know about you?”

“He doesn’t know anything about me except that I grabbed his arm to keep from being run over by a couple of monster children running up and down the aisles at JFK.” 
And was hooked into his dangerous pair of eyes!